In Pieces
by darkforetold
Summary: NC-17. Dean/Castiel. It has been a year since Dean has turned into something he has been taught to loathe; a monster.  Having no choice, Castiel has to hunt down his oldest friend—one that has a penchant for human blood.


"Please. Just let me go. I—I'll do whatever you want. Just.. _please_ let me go."

Castiel ignored her broken cries, yanking her arms above her head to cuff them to the pipe. The alleyway swallowed them, cold and lifeless stone sprawling up on either side. Not even her sad green eyes could deter him from what he needed to do. Not even her tears would dissuade him from using her as bait. To him, this girl was nothing more than a means to an end.

"You have my apologies. Certain sacrifices must be made."

"N—no. Please! Please—"

He stuffed a rag into her mouth to quiet her before turning to leave the alleyway. Behind him, the woman screamed through the gag and he ignored it. The sound was muffled, like she was drowning. Drowning in her own fear and the injustice of her life's dreams being stolen. Castiel couldn't afford to feel pity at this juncture. His goal was of greater importance and the sacrifice would be worth it.

Sure strides brought him to the Impala, her sleek, black curves dirty. Castiel hadn't washed her since Dean—he bit his bottom lip at the thought. Right now, Castiel didn't want to think about what had happened. It would be safer if he didn't think at all. He had to keep his focus.

Instead of thinking, Castiel slipped into the front seat of the Impala and pawed at the bag of fast food. His stomach growled at the mere notion of a hamburger, the smell of it making his mouth water. It was depressing to realize that this was the only thing that brought him joy of any kind. Depressing to think that a year ago everything had been.. better, at least. Just as Castiel tried to push the memories down into his gut, he caught the silver glimmer of Dean's gun in the passenger seat—a constant reminder of when Castiel had lost everything. Everything that he had cared for. Everything that had grounded him to this earth. Everything that had made… _sense_.

With the narrowing of his eyes, Castiel tossed the fast food bag over the gun, keeping it out of his sight. He couldn't afford the distraction—he was on a hunt. Castiel busied himself with unwrapping the burger and sinking his teeth into it, taking a break from his chewing to sip on his drink. And no matter what he did, Castiel couldn't escape from his thoughts, from all of these.. _feelings_. Ridiculous, inhibiting _things_ that he tried to constantly drown out. He drank and popped painkillers just to make it through the day. Sleeping pills to keep the nightmares away. Anything to make this sad excuse of a human existence somewhat bearable. Through experimentation, Castiel had learned that _nothing_ could fill the hole he felt in his chest. The hole that Dean had left behind…

Castiel exhaled sharply in frustration. With the flick of his wrist, he turned on the radio, hoping that music would cancel out his mind's inability to shut down. He was wrong. He knew it immediately when Air Supply's "All Out of Love" started spilling out of the Impala's speakers.

_I 'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you,_

_I know you were right believing for so long,_

_I 'm all out of love, what am I without you._

"Goddamnit," Castiel hissed and turned it off.

Everything reminded him of Dean. Castiel couldn't escape his haunting memory, what had happened. Fuck it. He let his mind wander, leaning back into the front seat while his food and nerves settled.

Castiel had thought about the hunt that had happened a year ago too many times. The one that Dean hadn't survived. Not completely. The nest of near-starved, blood-thirsty vampires. The shock on Dean's face when he had realized he had been bitten. The moment of weakness when Dean had drank blood. Castiel sighed heavily and ran slender fingers through his hair. That night had forever changed the lives of the people Castiel had grown to care for; Sam, Bobby and Dean himself. Dean had become something he hated the most; a monster. The type of thing that he and his brother had hunted for so many years.

They tried to do whatever they could for Dean; search for a cure, provide him with sustenance. Even then, Dean stuck to his morals, refusing anything remotely human. But it was too much for Dean to handle. During a starved frenzy, Dean had turned animalistic and had killed Sam and Bobby. His guilt, shame.. his grief.. Castiel was forced to lock Dean in the panic room, to prevent him from finding a way to kill himself. Watching his oldest friend deteriorate into a monster without cognition—

Castiel sighed. It has been a year since Dean had broken out and fled. The baseline of any creature, monster or otherwise, was survival. And the only way Castiel knew Dean was alive was through the string of bodies that had been left behind over the months. A body here and there, several in a couple of townships. All of the evidence pointed to Dean being here, the small town of Eden, South Dakota. Dean was traveling north and Castiel was hunting him. Soon, it would be all over.

If for no other reason than to escape the silence, Castiel popped on the radio again. The soft lyrics of Guns N' Roses' "Patience_"_ filled the car. Even Dean's choice in music haunted him. It was soothing, eased the tension in his muscles. Somehow, it comforted him, made him feel like Dean was somewhere nearby. That everything would be all right..

_Shed a tear 'cause I'm missing you,_

_I'm still alright to smile,_

_Girl, I think about you every day now._

His eyelids drooped and found himself wavering in and out of consciousness. Castiel considered letting himself sleep if just for a second.. .

_It'll work itself out fine,_

_All we need is just a little patience.._

.. _patience.. patience.._

There was blood-curdling scream.

Castiel gasped and jerked awake. His momentary confusion of his surroundings had him searching past blind eyes with touch. Darkness. The Impala. _Dean_. Without a moment's hesitation, he flung the car door open and stepped into the cool air. Quick, hard footfalls on the pavement brought him to the alleyway, rushing head first into what he knew would be trouble. There, in the soft light, hunched Dean; the man who's memory found him in the daylight, the animal who haunted his nightmares. As much as he wanted to stare at Dean, commit every detail to memory, he simply couldn't. The shock of the scene tore him away from studying his old friend. Castiel felt.. nauseated, rocking back and forth on unsure legs. Gore.. was everywhere. Blood splattered the stone walls like macabre graffiti and pieces of flesh hung off bone. The girl was in shreds with arms dislocated from the rest of her body. In the middle of it all was Dean, tearing off hunks of meat in a way that would honor the most gruesome horror flicks. Yet with all of it, the blood sprayed over his skin, the disgusting slurp as he sucked flesh from bone, he was still beautiful. Somehow, to Castiel, he was still _Dean_.

The thick scent of blood knocked him out of his shock. Right then, he remembered what he was here for. Castiel inhaled deeply and steeled his nerves. His heart pounded inside of his chest and his stomach tightened with anxiety. He had to survive this. There was no other choice.

"Dean…"

With a snarl, Dean looked up from the piece of flesh, baring his sharp teeth like he was going to attack. But he didn't. There was hesitation. Castiel hoped that it was recognition that flashed over his face just then; that Dean knew it was him. He could have contemplated it forever, wondering, but knew he couldn't waste the time. Without second guessing himself, he let slip the syringe from his coat sleeve; Dead Man's Blood—the solution to all of his worries.

It was as if Dean knew. In that second, he snarled again and rushed. Castiel used whatever Grace he had left to send the syringe from his hand, speeding toward Dean with abandon. It stuck into his flesh and Dean growled, near stumbling to his knees while the Grace-manipulated syringe pumped the blood into him. Castiel watched as Dean lost his balance and try to brace himself against the stone wall of the alleyway. There, against it, he crumpled like a ragdoll, unmoving as if he were dead. Castiel wondered if that would have been a better alternative for Dean; death. He knew without a doubt that Dean would have preferred it that way. To comply with his wishes, Castiel knew he should kill Dean, get it over with and never look back. But he couldn't. Castiel couldn't say goodbye to the beginning he knew he should have had. It was out of greed that Castiel kept this hope alive; the hope that he could fix Dean. The hope for a happily ever after with the man he loved.

Castiel stooped low and slipped Dean's arm over his shoulder, hoping to hoist him up and carry him relatively easily. It took Castiel several tries to get a secure hold on him. He used all of his strength to drag Dean toward the car and shove him inside, into the backseat. With the growl of the Impala's engine, Castiel sped away from the massacre and put the small, sleepy town of Eden in his rear view mirror.

The basement of Bobby's house was wide and dark, expansive like the waiting maw of a monster. It threatened to devour him, swallow all of the strength he had left. Drain everything that he was. He almost had nothing left to give. He was weak, growing weaker, and still had so much to do. For Dean.

With Dean's silver gun and syringe in hand, Castiel shambled toward the panic room's door. It opened with a metallic roar, exposing the scene that lay inside. Dean was hand cuffed to the nearby pipe, weak as the result of the Dead Man's Blood. Castiel couldn't risk Dean overpowering him and getting free. Death was the least of his worries. Death, if it ever came to it, would be a welcomed salvation. No, being _without_ Dean would be worse. He couldn't do that again.

Castiel stepped over the threshold cautiously, setting aside the silver gun on one of the tables. It was far enough away to prevent it being used as a first option, but close enough if Castiel had no other choice. The gun was loaded with two bullets and Castiel wouldn't be far behind if he had ever needed to kill Dean.

As if to ground himself, to somehow feel safe, Castiel fingered the syringe in his jacket—Dean's jacket—before stepping forward, closer to danger. The panic room was filled with this.. sense of death and despair and it clung to Castiel's skin like a sickness; an epidemic that spread to his bones. He shivered against the chill of the air but still removed the jacket from his body. The only use he had for it was to keep the syringe accessible and out of sight. It didn't matter. Dean groaned as if he knew it was there. But Castiel knew the pained, animalistic cry was because he was hungry instead.

The week had crawled by slowly, every day bleeding into the last. Castiel had kept Dean alive on his blood, feeding him periodically when his body let him. Long-term, it wouldn't be enough. He would be forced to hunt in the future for Dean, dragging back victims so that he'd be able to survive long enough for Castiel to fix him. So that they'd be happy together. To Castiel, the end justified the means.

His muscles ached as he stooped low in front of Dean. Castiel watched him, couldn't help but touch him. As Castiel brushed his fingers against his face, Dean leaned into the affection, closing his red-shocked eyes as if to savor it. Castiel loved moments like these; when Dean almost seemed human again. Moments that were becoming farther in between. Moments that he would always remember.

"Here, Dean. You have to eat."

Castiel lifted his wrist but Dean turned away from the offer, lowering his head. Maybe Castiel was wrong; maybe Dean wasn't hungry at all. He thought he heard Dean say something, whisper his name perhaps, and leaned closer. Closer, so close that Dean could simply lift his head up and bite into Castiel's throat and end him right there. But he didn't. Instead, Dean leaned forward, resting his head on Castiel's shoulder. Castiel imagined there to be a sort of love or appreciation in that gesture. Or silent _pleading_; to let him go or.. end it all.

"What's wrong, Dean..?"

_Everything_…

His own answer saddened him and voiced everything he had hidden away. He couldn't get farther than scratching the surface of his thoughts when he felt Dean kiss his neck. It was a gentle, explorative thing; lips with the light brush of teeth. Dean nipped hard enough at his skin to draw blood. It hurt and it was fucking dangerous, but Castiel didn't pull away like he should have. Instead, Castiel leaned into the primal affection with a groan, reveling in how it made him feel. Unchaste excitement jabbed into his stomach, sending a heady sensation of euphoria up to his brain and blood down to his cock. It thickened and pressed painfully against the zipper of his jeans; the feeling of arousal so intense that he could hardly stand it. There was something about this, being so close to a monster as beautiful as Dean was, that thrilled him. The threat of death, the promise of more pain.. it was intoxicating and left him trembling.

The danger of it all became more real when Dean mouthed at his neck harder, sucking at what little blood he could. Castiel moaned with it and shivered, hands pressing hard into Dean's thighs. As much as he loved it, Castiel had to pull away, had to redirect Dean's attentions. Castiel's heart jump-started in his chest when Dean whimpered. He kissed him hard, pulling Dean in at the nape of the neck. Their lips locked together, crushed and bruised, and Dean let out a sweet little noise from the back of his throat. Dean's passion came from a place of hunger and he chased it by leaning forward, as if trying to occupy the same space as Castiel. It was incredible and dizzying. This was what he had always wanted; Dean. To be loved by him, needed by him. Castiel hadn't deserved it and didn't now, but he wanted it all the same. Castiel wouldn't refuse.

Castiel peppered sweet kisses along Dean's mouth while his hand ventured lower. Sex was instinctive and he learned of its power right then. Though his old friend was practically a monster, beautifully deadly as he was, Dean was hard. Cock swollen and throbbing. That was all Castiel needed. With quick hands, he stripped the both of them down to bare skin; the burning pitch of their bodies together just as it was always meant to be.

Dean didn't struggle against it, encouraging with the minute buck of his hips when Castiel straddled his lap. With a soft touch, Castiel brushed a hand down his face and kissed his cheek bone. He was so gentle with Dean, treating him as if he were delicate porcelain; the light fluttering of touch, the barely-there meet of lips. To Castiel, Dean was—

"You are.. _so_ beautiful."

Castiel was breathless, taken back by how much he needed Dean. He ached for him and it translated into the way Castiel touched him, sending a hand down the smooth lines of his chest. His fingers sunk lower, to Dean's cock, and positioned it at his entrance. The heat of it alone, so close and so tangible, made Castiel groan. Dean followed suit with a noise of his own, inching forward to nip at Castiel's lips. His teeth grazed him lightly, catching at the skin of his mouth but didn't draw blood. Castiel knew Dean was hungry. And if this was the only way Castiel could get what he wanted…

He forgot about the danger, his desperation, and lowered himself onto Dean's cock, bracing against the pain of the stretch. God, how it hurt. Castiel had always planned for Dean to be his only male partner; a choice that may have been foolish in retrospect. He forgot about that too when he began the methodical up-and-down motion. Forgot about everything when pain became pleasure's window of opportunity. Dean whimpered with it, jerked into it with his hips, and Castiel savored every single second of it. Soon, they moved together as one as if their bodies had been made for each other. They fit together like pieces of a puzzle; a complicated, puzzle of broken bodies and shattered minds. And if this was all he could have.. Castiel wouldn't want it any other way.

The speed of their rhythm increased and Castiel rocked into Dean harder, drawing out moans from both of them. With hunger, Castiel cupped Dean's face and drew him in roughly, pressing their mouths together. He should have known that Dean would bite him again. When teeth sunk into his lower hip, Castiel cried out with the glorious rush of pain. He never stopped the glide of their bodies, the pain adding another level of bliss to the frenzy. As Dean sipped at his blood, he became a more active participant, moving with a fluidity that sent a sudden surge of fear through Castiel. The fear was swallowed by ecstasy as Dean pushed into him harder, jerking his hips as much as he could. Castiel's body was jolted with each and every thrust, sparking fire against his mounting orgasm. It approached quickly, burning the edges of his conscious and igniting every single one of his nerve endings. Castiel pressed his hips forward to rub his cock against Dean's bare stomach, seeking out that friction, desperate for his own release. He felt Dean's lips at his jaw line, trailing down to the sensitive skin where his neck and shoulder met. The tongue flicker was Castiel's first warning and then… Dean bit him. Hard.

With a cry, Castiel came, embracing sharp pain with the pleasure that bloomed inside of him. The strength of his orgasm left him panting, weak and boneless against Dean. He felt high with ecstasy and warm, the pain dulling against the tide of the adrenaline coursing through his blood. They collapsed together. That moment was beautiful, perfect. The next moment was not. That was when paradise ended.

With a growl, Dean broke free of the cuffs around his wrists and rushed forward with a profound surge of strength. Castiel cried out and realized his error; Dean had fed enough to regain his vitality. His own death was imminent. As quickly as he could, Castiel crawled away with Dean fast on his heels. Dean grabbed at him and missed, nails clawing down the side of Castiel's calf. The pain spiked through his leg and Castiel did his best to ignore it, scrambling toward the only thing that would prove to be his lifeline—the syringe. Just as Dean grabbed at his ankle and pulled, Castiel snatched the syringe out of the jacket pocket. It clattered to the floor, just out of his reach, when Dean began to pull him closer. With a jerk forward, Castiel grabbed it before he flipped himself over to face his attacker. Dean fell on him then, near crushing the wind out of his body. The struggle ensued and Dean tried to nip at his wrist, his arm, snarling like a crazed animal. Castiel knew his time had come. He would die like this; nothing more than a meal on the menu of broken memories. In that second, Castiel accepted his fate. If dying enabled Dean to live…

"Dean.." Castiel called out, saying what he assumed would be his last words. "I love you.."

Dean froze for a second and a flicker of _something_ spread over his face. That was all Castiel needed. With a cry, Castiel sent the syringe into Dean's thigh and squeezed the Dead Man's Blood into his body. Within seconds, Dean was lying on the floor in a paralytic coma. Castiel backed into a wall and gasped for breath, chest heaving erratically with the thumping of his heart. He lulled his head to the side to look at Dean. His blood-shot eyes stared back at him blankly, accusingly, mouth red with Castiel's blood.

_Just a misstep.._ Castiel told himself. Next time, Dean would be bound better. Next time, Castiel would take better precautions. With one more deep inhale, Castiel shifted to his hands and knees and crawled over to Dean. There, Castiel curled up next to him, running his hands through Dean's hair soothingly.

"We'll be happy together. I promise."


End file.
